December 3rd, 2023. Selene Dion’s home in Las Vegas. The phone rings. Seline doesn’t answer it. She rarely answers the phone anymore. What’s the point? It’s always the same conversation. How are you feeling? Any improvement? Are you getting better? And she always has to say, “No, I’m not better.

 I’m getting worse.” Stiff person syndrome doesn’t get better. It’s progressive, degenerative. Every day, her muscles get stiffer. Everyday movement becomes harder. Two years ago, Selene Dion was performing to soldout crowds. Her voice, that legendary voice, could fill arenas and move audiences to tears. Now she can barely walk across her living room without assistance.

 The phone stops ringing, then immediately starts again. Her assistant, Marie, picks it up. Hello. Oh my god. Yes, she’s here. Just a moment. Marie looks at Seline with wide eyes. It’s Taylor Swift. Seline’s head snaps up. What? Taylor Swift is on the phone. She’s asking to speak to you. Seline’s heart races.

 She hasn’t spoken to Taylor in years. Not since when? Some award show? Some event? She takes the phone with trembling hands. Hello, Miss Dion. The voice is unmistakable. This is Taylor Swift. I’m so sorry to bother you. I know you’re not well, but I needed to talk to you, Taylor. Seline says her voice.

 It’s good to hear from you. I’ve been following your journey, your battle with stiff person syndrome. I can’t imagine how hard this must be. It’s It’s very hard, Seline admits. She doesn’t usually talk about it, but something about Taylor’s voice makes her honest. I’m calling because the Grammys have decided to give me the Lifetime Achievement Award this year, and they asked me who I wanted to present it.

 I could choose anyone, any legend, anyone in the industry. Selene waits, not understanding why Taylor is telling her this. I chose you, Taylor says simply. I want you to present my award if you’re able, if you’re willing. I know it’s a lot to ask. I know standing on that stage will be incredibly difficult for you, but Miss Dion, you’re the reason I sing. Selen’s breath catches.

 What? When I was 10 years old, my mother took me to see you in concert. You were performing in Nashville. I sat in that audience and I watched you command that stage with just your voice. No dancers, no elaborate production, just you and that incredible voice. And I went home and I told my mom, “That’s what I want to do.

I want to make people feel what Selene Dion made me feel tonight.” Taylor’s voice cracks with emotion. You taught me that the voice is the most powerful instrument. That if you sing with your whole heart, you don’t need anything else. Every time I step on stage, I think about what you taught me that night, even though you didn’t know you were teaching me. Selene is crying now.

Silent tears streaming down her face. So, if you can fight the real, I would be honored to have you present my award. Not because I need a big name to present it. Because I need you to know that you matter. That your voice still matters. That your legacy doesn’t disappear because your body is sick.

 Seline can barely speak. Taylor, I I don’t know if I can walk on that stage. I don’t know if I can stand long enough. I don’t know if I can even speak clearly. The spasms. I don’t care if you can barely stand. I don’t care if you need help walking. I don’t care if your hands shake or your voice cracks.

 I just need you there because you’re my hero and I need my hero to hand me this award. Selene closes her eyes. Every fiber of her being wants to say yes, but her body, I’ll try, she whispers. I can’t promise I’ll make it through, but I’ll try. That’s all I ask. Taylor says, “Thank you. Thank you for being the reason I believed I could do this.

” After they hang up, Seline sits in silence for a long time. Marie sits beside her. Are you really going to do it? I have to. Seline says she called me her hero. How can I let my hero down? For the next two months, Selene works with physical therapists. She practices walking. She practices standing. She practices controlling the spasms enough to hand over an envelope. It’s agony.

 Every session leaves her exhausted and in pain, but she made a promise. Now, on Grammy night, she’s about to keep it, even if it breaks her. The preparation for Grammy night began the day after Taylor’s phone call. Dr. Amanda Chen, Selen’s neurologist, came to her Las Vegas home to assess whether this was even medically possible.

 Seline, I have to be honest with you. Dr. Chen said, reviewing her charts. Your condition has progressed significantly in the past 6 months. The muscle rigidity is worse. The spasms are more frequent. The risk of falling. I know the risk, Selene interrupted. But I’m doing this. Then we need to be smart about it.

 We’ll work with your physical therapist to build your strength. We’ll adjust your medications for that specific day. We’ll have a medical team standing by. But even with all of that, even with all of that, I might fall. I might not be able to speak. I might embarrass myself on live television in front of millions of people. Dr. Chen nodded.

 Yes, then I’ll fall, but I’ll do it trying. Over the next 8 weeks, Selene worked harder than she’d worked in years. Physical therapy sessions 5 days a week. Each one focused on one goal, walking 20 steps without assistance. 20 steps, that’s all she needed. From the wings to center stage. Some days she could do it.

 Most days she couldn’t. Her physical therapist, Robert, was patient but realistic. Selene, we’re making progress, but I need you to understand there are no guarantees. On the night with the pressure, with the adrenaline, with the cameras, your body might not respond the way we hope. I understand. Do you? Because if you fall on that stage, the whole world will see it.

 And they won’t just see a woman who fell. They’ll see Selene Dion, the legend reduced to someone who can’t even walk. Seline looked at him with steel in her eyes. Then let them see it. Let them see that even legends struggle. Let them see that even people with five Grammy awards and 200 million records sold can have bodies that betray them.

 Maybe someone watching will need to see that. Robert smiled. You’re the toughest client I’ve ever had. I’ve been called worse. But the physical preparation was only half the battle. The emotional preparation was harder because Selene had to prepare for the possibility that she would fail, that she would fall, that she would disappoint Taylor, that she would become a cautionary tale instead of an inspiration.

 One night, 3 weeks before the Grammys, Seline broke down completely. She’d been practicing walking and 15 steps in, her legs locked up. She fell hard, hitting her shoulder on the floor. Marie rushed to help her up, but Seline couldn’t move. The muscles in her back had seized. She lay on the floor crying from pain and frustration.

 “I can’t do this,” she sobbed. “I can’t. My body won’t let me. I’m going to call Taylor and tell her I can’t do it.” “Okay,” Marie said gently. “Let’s get you up first, then you can call her.” It took 20 minutes to get Seline off the floor. By then, the spasm had released, but the humiliation remained. Seline reached for her phone.

She pulled up Taylor’s number, but before she could call, a text message came through from Taylor. Miss Dion, I know you’re working so hard to prepare for the Grammys. I want you to know you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be who you were. You just have to be you. However you show up, I’ll be honored. P.S.

 Your voice has been my companion through every hard moment of my life. Thank you for existing. Selene read the message three times, then four, then five. She put the phone down without calling. I’m not quitting, she told Marie. If I fall on that stage, so be it. But I’m not quitting. The day before the Grammys, Selene and her team flew to Los Angeles.

 The flight was difficult. Sitting for hours made her muscles seize up. By the time they landed, she could barely walk. Her doctor met her at the hotel with emergency medications. We need to manage your pain levels carefully. If we give you too much medication, you’ll be too drowsy to present. If we give you too little, the pain will be unbearable.

Find the balance, Selene said. I don’t care what it takes. That night, Selene couldn’t sleep. She lay in her hotel bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about the next day. 20 steps. That’s all she had to do. 20 steps, hand over an envelope, say a few words, something she could have done in her sleep 2 years ago. Now it felt like climbing Everest.

Grammy day, February 4th, 2024. Selene woke up at 6:00 a.m. Her team had scheduled everything carefully. Medications at 7:00 a.m. Breakfast at 8:00 a.m. Physical therapy at 10:00 a.m. Rest until 2 p.m. Hair and makeup at 3 p.m. Leave for the venue at 5:00 p.m. Every detail was planned to maximize her strength for the one moment that mattered. 8:47 p.m. Her time on stage.

The medications helped. By midm morning, Seline could walk across her hotel room without assistance. It hurt, but she could do it. Dr. Chen monitored her closely. How’s the pain? Manageable. Seline lied. The truth was that every movement was agony. But admitting that would mean admitting she couldn’t do this. And she refused to admit that.

Hair and makeup took three hours. Not because Seline was being vain, but because her body kept seizing up, requiring breaks. Her hair stylist, who had worked with her for 20 years, cried while styling her hair. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re so brave. I’m not brave, Seline said. I’m terrified. Bravery isn’t the absence of fear.

 It’s doing it anyway. By 5:00 p.m., Seline was ready. She looked beautiful. Elegant black gown, hair perfect, makeup flawless. No one would know looking at her how much pain she was in. How hard it was just to sit in that chair. How terrified she was of what was coming. The drive to Crypto.com Arena took 30 minutes.

 Every bump in the road sent pain shooting through Seline’s body. Marie held her hand the entire way. You can still back out. No one will judge you. I will judge me, Seline said. I made a promise to Taylor. I’m keeping it. They arrived at the venue at 5:45 p.m. Seline’s presentation wasn’t until 8:47 p.m.

 3 hours away, 3 hours to wait, 3 hours to worry, 3 hours to wonder if she’d make it. She was taken to a private dressing room. Her doctor gave her another dose of medication. Her physical therapist led her through gentle stretches and she waited. At 7:30 p.m., there was a knock on her door. Marie opened it. Taylor Swift stood there.

 Miss Dion, Taylor said, her voice soft. I hope it’s okay that I came. I wanted to see you before. Come in, Seline said, her voice shaking. Taylor entered and Seline saw tears in her eyes. I don’t know how to say this without crying, Taylor began. But I need you to know what you’re doing tonight. It’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. I haven’t done anything yet, Selene said.

I might not be able to. I might fall. I might. You’re already doing it, Taylor interrupted. You’re here. You’re trying. You could have said no. You could have let someone else present, but you’re here because I asked. Do you know how rare that is? Do you know what that means to me? Seline was crying now.

 You said I was your hero. I couldn’t let my hero down. Taylor knelt beside Seline’s chair. You didn’t let me down. You never could. Whatever happens on that stage tonight, you’ve already given me everything. You’ve shown me that legends are human. That strength isn’t about perfection. That showing up even when you’re broken, is the most powerful thing you can do.

 They sat together for a while. Two legends from different generations. Both crying. both understanding something that the world outside didn’t. Fame doesn’t protect you from pain. Success doesn’t shield you from struggle. And sometimes the bravest thing you can do is ask for help. I’m scared, Selene admitted. I’m scared I’ll fall and embarrass us both.

 Then I’ll help you up, Taylor said simply. That’s what we do. We help each other up. At 8:40 p.m., Selene was moved to the backstage area just offstage from where she’d make her entrance. She could hear the show, the performances, the applause, the energy of thousands of people. Her hands started shaking uncontrollably.

 Not from nervousness, from the disease. The muscle spasms were starting. Dr. Chen was there immediately. We can give you something. No. Seline said, “No more medications. I need to be alert. I need to do this on my own. Seline, I need to do this on my own.” Marie stood beside her, ready to catch her if she fell. At 8:46 p.m.

, the previous presenter finished. The commercial break started. This was it. The stage manager approached. Miss Dion, you’re on in 60 seconds. Are you ready? Seline stood up. Her legs were shaking. Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was fighting her. But she stood. I’m ready.

 If at any point you need help, I know, but I’m going to try to do this alone. You’re incredible. The stage manager said, wiping tears from his eyes. 30 seconds. Seline took a deep breath. She thought about Taylor as a 10-year-old girl, sitting in an audience, watching Seline perform, deciding that’s what she wanted to do with her life.

 She thought about Taylor’s phone call. You’re my hero. She thought about 20 steps. Just 20 steps. She could do 20 steps. 10 seconds, Miss Dion. The lights came back up. The commercial break ended. The announcers’s voice boomed through the arena. Ladies and gentlemen, to present the Lifetime Achievement Award, please welcome the legendary Selene Dion.

 The audience erupted. Everyone was on their feet before she even appeared. The applause was deafening. Selene took her first step onto the stage. The lights were blinding. The noise was overwhelming. Her body screamed at her to stop, but she took another step and another. The cameras found her on screens around the arena.

 Her image appeared, walking slowly, carefully, each step deliberate. The audience could see what this was costing her. The effort, the pain, the determination, and they cheered louder. Five steps, 10 steps. Seline’s legs were shaking so hard now. She wasn’t sure she could make it. 15 steps. Her vision started to blur.

 The muscle spasms were intensifying. She was going to fall. She knew it. 18 steps. And then Taylor was there. Taylor had come out from the wings, rushing to Selen’s side. I’ve got you, Taylor whispered, taking Seline’s arm. Let me help. Together, they walked the final two steps to center stage. The audience was crying.

 Celebrities in the front row were openly sobbing. This wasn’t just a presentation anymore. This was something else, something bigger. Seline and Taylor reached the microphone. They stood there together supporting each other. Seline tried to speak, but her voice came out shaky. I I thought she stopped. Her jaw was locking. The spasms were too strong.

 She couldn’t speak. Panic filled her eyes. She looked at Taylor. I can’t do it. I can’t speak. Taylor squeezed her hand. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Taylor turned to the audience. Ladies and gentlemen, when I was 10 years old, my mother took me to see Selene Dion in concert. And I watched this woman command a stage with nothing but her voice.

 No dancers, no production, just the most powerful voice I’d ever heard. And I went home that night and I told my mother, “That’s what I want to do.” Taylor’s voice was shaking now, emotional. Everything I’ve done in my career, I’ve done because Selene Dion showed me it was possible. She showed me that if you sing with your whole heart, you don’t need anything else.

 She showed me that the voice is the most powerful instrument we have. Taylor looked at Seline, tears streaming down her face. Tonight, Miss Dion is standing on this stage. Even though her body is betraying her, even though every step was agony, even though she knew she might fall in front of millions of people, she’s here because I asked her to be, and that that’s the greatest honor anyone has ever given me.

 The audience erupted in applause. Seline’s jaw unlocked. She found her voice shaky, but there. Taylor, she said softly. When you called me, you said I was your hero, but tonight you are mine. She held up the envelope with trembling hands. This award, it’s not just for your music. It’s for your heart, your courage, your voice that has brought joy to millions, including me.

 For the past 2 years, when I couldn’t use my voice, yours kept me alive. Selen’s voice broke completely. I thought I’d never stand on a stage again. I thought that part of my life was over, but you asked me, and you gave me a reason to try. You reminded me that I’m still a singer. Even if I can’t perform, I’m still a singer.

 Taylor was sobbing openly now. You taught me how to sing, Miss Dion. And now you’re teaching me how to be brave. Selene handed Taylor the envelope. Their hands met, both shaking, both legendary, both human. Taylor opened the envelope and pulled out the award. A stunning crystal trophy. But instead of giving an acceptance speech, Taylor did something unprecedented.

 Miss Dion, would you sing with me? Just one verse. Just one moment, please. Selene’s eyes widened. Taylor, I I don’t know if I can. You can. I know you can. Just one verse. The power of love. Your song. The song that taught me what singing really means. The audience held its breath. Seline looked terrified.

 She hadn’t sung in public in two years. Her voice might not work. She might crack. She might fail. But Taylor was looking at her with such hope, such faith. Okay. Selene whispered one verse. Taylor signaled to the band. They started playing the power of love. Seline closed her eyes. She took a breath and she sang. The whispers in the morning. Her voice was shaky at first.

Not the powerhouse it used to be, but it was there. Still beautiful, still Seline of lovers sleeping tight. Taylor joined in, harmonizing, supporting are rolling by like thunder now. Seline’s voice grew stronger. The muscle memory kicked in. This was who she was. This was her voice. Disease couldn’t take that away.

As I look in your eyes, they sang together. Two generations, two legends, two women supporting each other through the hardest moment of their lives. When they finished, the standing ovation lasted for seven full minutes. People weren’t just applauding the performance. They were applauding the courage, the vulnerability, the refusal to give up.

Seline and Taylor stood there, arms around each other, both crying, both changed by this moment. As they walked off stage together, Seline whispered, “Thank you for reminding me who I am. Thank you for showing me who I want to be.” Taylor whispered back. Backstage was chaos. press, publicists, everyone wanting to talk about what had just happened.

 But Seline needed to sit, her body had given everything it had. She was shaking violently now, the adrenaline wearing off, the pain returning with a vengeance. Dr. Chen rushed to her side. We need to get you back to the hotel. Not yet, Seline said. I need I need to talk to Taylor. Taylor appeared, having navigated through the crowd. She knelt beside Selen’s chair.

Are you okay? Taylor asked. I’m in pain, Seline admitted. But I’m okay. More than okay. Taylor, what you did tonight? What we did tonight? Taylor corrected. We did it together. You asked me to sing. I haven’t sung in public in two years. I was terrified. I know, but I also knew you could do it because you’re Selene Dion.

 And Selene Dion’s voice doesn’t disappear just because her body is sick. Selene took Taylor’s hand. You gave me something tonight that I thought I’d lost forever. You gave me back my voice, not just literally. You reminded me that I’m still a singer. You never stopped being a singer, Taylor said firmly. Illness doesn’t erase who you are.

 It doesn’t erase your legacy. It doesn’t erase the millions of people you’ve inspired, including me. They sat together for a long moment. Can I ask you something? Seline said, “Why did you choose me?” “Really? You could have had anyone present your award, any living legend, anyone who could walk on that stage without struggling.

 Why did you choose someone who might fall, who might embarrass you?” Taylor looked at her with absolute certainty. Because you’re not just any legend. You’re my legend. You’re the person who made me believe I could do this. And I needed you to know that your impact doesn’t diminish because you’re sick.

 Your legacy doesn’t fade because you can’t perform anymore. But I did perform tonight because of you. We perform together and we’re going to do it again. Seline looks surprised. What? This isn’t the last time you sing, Miss Dion. I won’t let it be. Once a year every year, we’re going to sing together.

 I don’t care if it’s just one verse. I don’t care if you need help standing. We’re going to keep your voice in the world because the world needs to hear it. Seline started crying again. You would do that? You’re my hero. I’d do anything. 6 months later, Selene Dion stood on stage at Taylor Swift’s Aerys tour in Montreal.

 She could walk a little better now. The new medication regimen was helping, but she still needed assistance, still struggled. Taylor brought her on stage to 50,000 screaming fans, and they sang The Power of Love together again. It became an annual tradition. Once a year at a Taylor Swift concert, Selene Dion would appear.

 They would sing one song together, just one verse. And every time, Selene proved that she was still a singer. Not in spite of her illness, but because her voice, her real voice, the one that came from her soul, could never be silenced. Two years after the Grammy night, Selene sat for an interview. “That night changed my life,” she said.

Not because I got to present an award, because Taylor Swift reminded me that I matter, that my voice still matters. That illness doesn’t erase everything you were. She called you her hero, the interviewer said. And she became mine, Selene replied. She showed me that being a hero isn’t about being perfect.

 It’s about showing up. Even when you’re broken, even when you’re scared, even when your body is failing you, you show up and you use whatever voice you have left. Do you think you’ll ever perform again? A full concert? Seline smiled. I don’t know, maybe, maybe not. But I don’t need a full concert to be a singer.

 I sing every time Taylor invites me on stage. I sing every time someone hears my old recordings and feels something. I sing every time my story reminds someone that they’re more than their illness. What would you say to Taylor Swift if you could say anything? Seline didn’t hesitate. I’d say, “Thank you for seeing me when I couldn’t see myself.

 Thank you for reminding me that my voice never left. It just needed someone to believe in it again. And thank you for being brave enough to ask your hero for help. Because in helping you, you help me remember who I am. The interviewer wiped tears from her eyes. That’s beautiful. That’s what legends do, Selene said. We hold each other up across generations, across struggles.

 We remind each other, “Your voice matters. Keep singing no matter what.” And she did. For the rest of her life, Selene Dion kept singing. One verse at a time, one collaboration at a time, one moment of courage at a time, because Taylor Swift had called her a hero. And you don’t let your hero down.

 Even when your body is breaking, even when every step is agony, even when the whole world is watching, you show up, you sing, and you prove that some voices can never be silenced. The end. You’re my hero, and I need my hero to hand me this award. And you became mine. You showed me that being a hero isn’t about being perfect.

Taylor Swift and Selene Dion. Grammy Awards 2024.